The journey back from Worcester was just as difficult, except that the light was a little better. Even so, Anna kept her headlights on. But the further south she went, the worse the weather got. As she neared Bristol, the urge to bypass HQ and go straight to the search site at Beth Farlow’s cottage was almost overwhelming. Her stomach felt gripey and empty and she realised she hadn’t eaten properly or drunk anything yet today. Ben would have given her one of his looks. The one that said, ‘You can’t do anything about what’s around the corner, but you can make damn sure you meet it with an appropriate blood sugar level.’ Thinking of Ben released a little of the tension in her nerves which, after seeing Shaw, felt as taut as piano wire. She took a breath and steered the car towards Portishead.

Everyone in the office looked up as she walked in. She dumped her battered briefcase in her fishbowl room, glanced at her watch and noted it was almost ten. When she walked back out into the office, Trisha handed her a cup of tea.

‘You are a lifesaver,’ Anna said and sipped. It tasted hot and sweet and wonderful. Her team was waiting expectantly.

‘Thanks for being patient.’

Rainsford was already there. He knew she’d arrived. The office radar was working well.

‘Apologies for being late but I had to make a little trip this morning to Worcester. Hector Shaw has been admitted to hospital after collapsing in Whitmarsh. He’s about to receive a blood transfusion and a battery of tests.’

No one spoke, and she realised she ought to give them a reason as to why she’d gone. Distorted integrity and a misguided sense of duty would not cut the mustard here. ‘Shaw’s unwell. I don’t know how serious his situation is but I felt obliged, in the light of our new findings, to interview him once more.’

‘Before he croaks,’ said Dawes nodding.

‘But despite showing him Norcott’s sketch, he was unable to help us interpret it. He denies ever having heard of Miranda Dorell. He agrees with me that the larger figure could well be Krastev, but otherwise had nothing new to contribute.’

‘Is he actually dying?’ Holder asked.

‘I don’t know. Nobody seems to. He’s having tests and he looks bloody awful, let’s put it that way. Anyway, when we look at all the information we’ve gathered from Shaw, Norcott’s sketch, King’s assault and now Beth Farlow, everything seems to revolve around something that happened at Ryegrove around the time Alison Johnson went missing. Something that’s triggered a reaction culminating in the events of yesterday. What’s the latest on the search?’

Dawes spoke up. ‘They’re combing the woodland. The POLSA has thirty men searching. But it’s a big area and it widens the further north they go. The biggest obstacle is the weather. There have already been reports of flooding in the estuary. Even made the news with waves crashing over the sea defences. They reckon there might be some local evacuations by mid-afternoon.’

Anna shook her head. ‘He must be there somewhere. He has no car. We would have known if he’d tried to leave by train or bus.’

‘We’ve circulated his photograph to transport police. There’s been no report of any sightings,’ Khosa said.

‘OK. OK. Let’s look at what else we’ve got. I need to understand how Krastev and the Dorells fit into this picture. If they do at all.’

Khosa got up from her seat and handed out a blue plastic folder. ‘Trisha’s collated what information we have, including CSI images of the bodies, and the fence and Justin and Sarge’s visit to Wales.’

Anna nodded. There were now too many photos to stick on the whiteboard and they were effectively being issued a murder book.

Khosa continued, ‘At the back are two photographs, the most recent we could find of the Dorells. Both taken at their last court appearances, so a little out of date.’

‘How so?’ Holder asked.

‘Joshua Dorell came out of prison after serving three years of a four-year sentence seventeen months ago. His sister, Miranda, was already out on licence from having spent four years at the Becton unit in Greenwich.’

‘She’s out again?’ Anna looked at the photographs. The similarity between the siblings was striking. Miranda’s image showed an attractive, wild-eyed, dark-haired girl with a frighteningly lost expression, taken as she stared at a police camera. Joshua had an equally full mouth and heavy lids. But his was a much more defiant stare. Behind those images were more of an older Miranda, this time made up, posing on a bed with her breasts on show. Behind that was another of a poorly lit room and a girl doing the splits in front of a silver pole.

‘So, she’s no Sunday school teacher, then?’ Dawes said.

Khosa nodded, ‘Pole dancing, online sex chat. She’s done a bit of everything when the mood takes her.’

‘Isn’t that the point?’ Anna asked. ‘She’s bipolar.’

‘You’re right, ma’am,’ Khosa replied. “Her behaviour seems to see-saw, but even when she’s been stable, she’s been a bit of a wild child.’

‘Child?’ Dawes said. ‘She must be knocking on forty.’

‘What’s her background?’ Anna said.

‘That’s where it becomes even more interesting. Parents were well off. Their father was an academic, a lecturer in politics. Their mother was an artist and a poet. When the children were four and five, the Dorells moved to a commune in Devon. The children were home-schooled, but effectively allowed to run wild. They travelled in a converted bus. Moved with a group of other New Age travellers. The type that pitch up on a farmer’s land and squat there until they’re evicted. When they were in their early teens, their parents both died of CO₂ poisoning in a friend’s van. The Dorell children were asleep in their own bus at the time.’

Dawes made a face; it echoed Anna’s thoughts. It could not have been an easy time for the Dorell children.

‘What happened to them?’

‘They went into care and a series of foster homes, none of which lasted very long. Miranda was luckier than Joshua. He stayed in residential homes mostly until he was eighteen.’

‘And then?’

‘They had money. Their mother was independently wealthy. Old money. The Dorells inherited that when they came of age.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ said Dawes. ‘Blew it all on a Ferrari and some decrepit pile in the countryside.’

‘No. At least Joshua didn’t. He went into drugs. Designer drugs. Synthetic opiates, MDMA, Spice, you name it. He was a talented chemist. His sister, meanwhile, seemed to be his main product tester. Unfortunately, the drugs didn’t help with her psychoses much.’

‘Off the rails?’ Holder asked.

Khosa shook her head. It made her dark hair bounce. ‘Not so much off as never actually on. She’s been sectioned three times. One of her manic phases led to her brother being arrested and a search of the premises subsequently led to his arrest and conviction. And Miranda’s online presence leaned heavily in the sadomasochistic direction.’

‘Is that where Krastev comes into the picture?’ Holder said.

‘That would be my guess,’ Anna said. ‘Krastev either met Miranda Dorell while he worked on the hospital construction or knew her and her brother beforehand. Well enough to borrow Joshua Dorell’s car, we know that. The tunnel under the fence was for Krastev to get access to Miranda possibly. Or for her brother to get her out.’

‘They sound like a lovely pair,’ Dawes said.

‘They’re also the key to the Black Squid connection. They must be if they had anything to do with Krastev. So where are they now?’ Anna asked.

Khosa sighed. ‘Not at the address she’d given to her community case worker. That lasted a week before she flew the nest.’

‘First Norcott and now this charmer. Care in the community at its bloody best,’ Dawes said.

Anna stared at the images in the folder. ‘And we have no idea where they are, the Dorells?’

Khosa answered, ‘None, ma’am. We’re checking bank records, trying to find credit card details. See if transactions flag up somewhere. But they’re both anti-establishment. I think it’s unlikely we’ll find them that way.’

‘Could they be abroad?’

‘I’m checking with the Border Agency. We’ll know if they’ve used a passport.’

‘You’ve done well, Ryia,’ Anna said. ‘One question. Were they about the same height? The Dorell siblings?’

Ryia checked her notes. ‘Yes, Joshua an inch taller than Miranda. Why are you asking?’

Anna shrugged. ‘Norcott’s sketch. The smaller figures are roughly the same height. I know I’m fishing but it’s possible it’s them.’

‘And the third?’ Holder asked.

‘Krastev?’ Anna said, but she heard the upward lilt in her voice. A question rather than a statement. There were still far too many of those and far too few answers. Still no idea about what happened to Alison Johnson, the nurse whose death set them on this tortuous path in the first place. ‘Right. Trisha, let’s double-check on any properties linked to the Dorells. Just in case. But in the meantime, I think we should get down to Severn Beach while we still can. Norcott’s been in that area for weeks hiding out. Someone must have seen him. I need to talk to the CSM at the cottage. See if they’ve found anything useful.’

‘Don’t you believe King?’ Holder asked.

‘I’ve got no reason to disbelieve him. But he was unconscious for a lot of the time. I’m hoping a forensic workup might tell us a bit more about what actually happened.’